You are immortal
Imperceptible insects
Sacred you shall be
With love beyond boundaries
Deeper than oceans

Gypsy

We think
The fire eats the wood

We are wrong

The wood
Reaches out to the flame

The fire
Licks at what the wood harbors

The wood
Gives itself away to that intimacy

The manner
In which we and the world meet each new day.

Gypsy

I touch
your lips
and hips
and the dips
on your thighs,
when I look into your eyes,
I can almost hear the sighs
that you made,
so afraid,
when the blade
touched the skin,
like I touch your chin,
and make you burn within,
as I treat all imperfection,
with affection,
even though all you are to me sometimes
is just a reflection.